Moving On
by Authorqueen
Summary: ONESHOT:Kat, after a long life,has passed on,without an Unfinished Buisness pitstop. Whilst scribbling down his rapt emotions,looking back on events and thinking of what could of been,Casper realises there is a lot more than what there seems...to moving


_AQ: I needed to get away from my Harry P fic...and they showed the movie on Xmas day, and inspired me...GODAMMIT DEVON SAWA WAS HOTT BACK THEN!!!!

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3rd July 2071

It's not easy being a ghost.

Infact, actually it's quite suckish. I almost understand now, why my uncle's hate living people...fleshies. Hate is a stronge word, they're probably just trying to cut themselves free from relationships with fleshies...because they knew something I didn't.

The fates and destinies of fleshies are unpredictable, you can't tell whether someone has unfinished buisness or not, until it's too late. You see people age, people change, centuries and even milleniums pass, you lose people close to you, and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it!...

Sorry about the tearstains that blur my words, but the fact is...Kat passed away last night. She was 89...her life content, her purposes fufilled. Why on earth would she linger in this world just to keep me company?! Her family miss her. Her daughter, Rachel, and her grandsons, James and Harvey...named after their great-grandfather. Her husband...Richard...he mourns her. I wish I could go and comfort him, but I guess after all these years my heart has finally turned cold. And you know the worst part about being a ghost?! You don't even know what your unfinished buisness is! How I am I ever going to meet Kat in the afterlife if I can't figure out what's keeping me here?! God, I'm so confused...

Ok, lets work this out from the start. I died of pneumonia, due to my own lack of common sense, and in dying drove my father into insanity. I'm then joined by my uncles in haunting Whitstaff, who make my afterlife a misery...then Kat and Dr Harvey step in after a century worth of loneliness, I finally get a chance to come back, maybe start a life with Kat...but I give my last chance away to Dr Harvey. Perhaps I shouldn't of. Perhaps I should of lived the life I should of had, the one I was robbed of at the age of twelve, instead of returning the life he was robbed of at the age of thirty or forty! I would have lived my life, instead of breathing for two hours alone, to have it melt away again...I'll never forget that night.

Urgh, why am I so angry?! Why am I saying things I don't mean?! I'm glad they both lived happy lives, and I'm glad I was a part of it, but...I miss Kat...and, I'll never see her again...because of my CRAPPY UNFINISHED BUISNESS!!! Ok, calm down, Cas, calm down. Perhaps it's time I moved on and just forgot it all, perhaps I just need to let go, perhaps...

_Casper let the ink pen loosen in his pearly white hand. That light was so bright, it seemed to tear at him, he felt like a simulation, like he wasn't there, but he was. Light, so piecing, so strong, like floating. He looked down at himself, at his hands, to see the milky, small, three fingered puds he'd had for so long, were replaced by vaguely familiar, slender hands and four, long, flesh coloured fingers. He touched his face and head. Hair, he had hair again. Casper was confused. Sure he knew what was happening, but why? Why know?! Almost instantly, a voice said softly "look who isn't a nicey nice push-over anymore..."_

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Stinky floated lazily round the second floor hallway, when he heard the uneasy choke of tears and scratching of a fountain pen from Casper's bedroom. Remaining silent, the trio member watched as the furious scribbling grew slower and steadier. The small ghost paused, tears glistening on his cheek. He dropped the pen. Still watching, now in silent awe, Stinky slunk back slightly, into the shadows, to avoid the sudden flood of light emitting from...Casper himself? The ghost's bulbous head deflated, his cartoony features fading into what Stinky remembered as the face of the boy, his sister's son, almost two hundred years ago. _Casper is a spirit, he's moving on..._ the boy gazed at the palms of his hands, then touched his face and hair. Stinky could feel the happiness radiating off him. The kid's head jerked upward, his eyes glazed gazing into the distance. Stinky's eyes widened as Casper took a step forward...

The moment his foot touched the ground, his form disintergrated like a firework, then faded like firefly ends dimming in the sunrise. Stinky blinked. Casper was gone? How? What was it keeping him here? He floated over to the kid's scrawly diary entry, blurred and watermarked as it was. The words blared out with pain and anger. So that was it. The thing holding him back was that he wanted to experiance new emotions...love, loss, anger, the sort of things a placid, sometimes cheeky and mischievious twelve year old would never know of. Stinky smiled quietly to himself, then groaned as it hit him. "Aww Crud! Naw we godda make aour own breakfast!!!"

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_AQ: Aaaaaand Fin! There! I have vented. Dear god, what an angsty Casper! Please no flames, especially about how Stinky talks...I know that it's crap. If you don't like my ideas, don't review. I don't want to know, I'm allowed to have my own perspective and ideas about what happens...personally I love the whole idea of Casper returning to life, but I'm not brave enough to start one of those AND Continue Albus AT THE SAME TIME. I think I'd keel over. Reviews welcome. Flames get pissed on._


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